Mistaken Identity
by ZivaDavid-LesNinja-FemmeLove
Summary: One may think they have fallen for their soul mate, but is it really who they love? What happens when Ziva is sent under cover in Vegas to find the man responsible for several murders on both sides of the country. Will tensions rise when CSI arrives after another murder is committed to do just that? Catherine may learn that while nothing is as it seems, their love is still real.


**Mistaken Identity**

A Zatherine Fan Fiction

A CSI/NCIS crossover

**Written by Sammy J Richardson**

**Rating: **M

**Warning: **Pretty obvious, given how I write this fiction is rated M for good reason. Sexual content and violent subject matter. Reader's be cautioned. Don't like, don't read. Plain and simple. 

_Author's Note: Hello everyone! For those who do not remember, I am Sammy and it feels so great to finally be writing again. It has been so long, I understand. And maybe, I do not know, you thought I dropped off the face of the earth or something. But, nope, I am still here. I just have not had the inspiration to write anything. However, for my birthday, I have been treating myself to a CSI marathon and being the Ziva/Catherine (Zatherine) shipper that I am, the idea for this story came into my head out of the blue. Trust me, more and more will become apparent so long as you read more. I know I have not been the best with updating stories but I am going to try to write as much as possible, which may be difficult seeing as though it is the school year. Just know, that I love you all so very much and I do hope you read a review, please? _

Chapter One: Number Eight

One can live their entire life, thinking they know someone through and through, and then oh so suddenly that same exact person can find out that this other being they have trusted is an entirely different person. Often times, people tend to listen to their hearts, go by that and not what their mind tells them. It could be screaming at them instinctually to not do as they do, but it becomes too much and one cannot help oneself but to fall head over heels. And whilst everyone seems to be able to sympathize with the side of the victim, no matter the reason, if one took it into perspective the other side of this occurrence. What would one realize then? How would life be like if someone had to coexist with one they care for, knowing it was all based on a lie, on a lie one told in order to serve and protect a country that was not even their own to begin with. They have been taught their entire life not to let their emotions get the better of them, to treat each and every mission just as such. What happens when all of this is let go, and one were to fall for someone? There are indeed two sides to every story, even in a case of mistaken identity.

It was a dark evening in Las Vegas, Nevada. Half a city away, people were carefree, drunkenly and mindlessly betting away thousands of dollars playing games they may not even know a thing about. Show girls earned their money and sins of many sorts were being committed. However, in a less hectic part of Clark County, Slyvia Marshall, twenty-two and at the prime of her life and career in the Navy had just gotten home from another fast-paced day at the office. Her mind was everywhere; everywhere but where it should have been. The woman of five foot six inches and black hair had not noticed that her front door was in fact unlocked as she entered her home.

"Yeah, well, tell him I will have it on his desk by lunch tomorrow." She said into her cell phone, setting her bag down in the foyer. Just as she stepped out of the foyer, she looked up to see a man of large build standing in front of her holding a knife. One of her own knives. She shouted, dropping the cell phone before she gulped as she swallowed hard. Her heart felt as though it was pounding out of her chest and for good reason. This was the evening she would certainly die.

"No you won't." The man's voice rang out menacingly.

Then, in a swift maneuver, he grabbed her and held her by the throat with the sharpest part of the blade right beneath his hand on her throat. He took her upstairs and did as he already had to seven other women. Slowly, he walked downstairs with a knife drenched in crimson, blood dripping onto the floor as he gradually maneuvered through the home. When he got to where the phone was, he stopped before bending down to pick it up, hearing a woman's frantic voice on the other end. Smirking in what could be only described as an utterly sinister manner, he answered.

"Hello. It seems Sylvia cannot come to the phone right now. Sorry."

His voice was so evil, practically rancid with sociopathic rage. Dropping the phone yet again, he could not keep himself from cackling before he left, taking the knife with him.

Meanwhile, an entire country away, it was also night in Washington, District of Columbia. The moon shone into the barely lit homes throughout the city. Ziva David sat alone at home, files surrounding her on the living room floor. Thus far, the team of NCIS agents had seven unsolved homicides and no leads. She was beginning to utterly hate all of this grasping at straws. The determined Israeli hated when a case went unsolved. It began to drive her insane, not knowing.

Ziva stayed up the last few nights, going over the files time and time again. However, more digging just equated to less answers. That fighting spirit, though, did not die. She wanted so badly to help these women in any way she could, for she too was once a victim and she had gotten her justice. Something within Ziva wanted to make sure that they did as well. Those faces of the victims seemed to permanently implant within her mind, knowing she would never be able to forget their stories, their causes of death, and their eyes, their dead bodies appearing so helpless and hopeless.

Shutting Rebecca Bernstein's file, she tossed it away with defeat before resting her head back against the couch, her eyes shutting after they had temporarily fixated on a certain spot. It was this type of case in which got to the young agent the most, however hard she tried to convince and admit otherwise. Groaning, she covered her eyes with her arms. Ziva knew she needed to get some sleep, so standing from her place on the rough floor, she did so. Though, she, like most nights, would not be sleeping.

Ziva's mind raced the entire time and she had woken up saturated in her own sweat. Sitting up with a start, she looked around in the darkness, finding nothing. The brunette saw nothing but the dark room, a semblance of things of which haunted her the most. Looking over to the clock beside her bed, she saw that it was 5:49 in the morning. How long had she been awake? How long had she slept? Getting out of bed, she then gathered her things and herself together before going into work for another day of feeling worthless. The Israeli knew she had to do more to help, but what she had not realized was just how much more she was going to be signing up for.


End file.
